


Glass Lilacs

by daytripper_4



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, Fluff, George POV, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Slow Burn, it rains a lot, preppy rich kid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28797537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daytripper_4/pseuds/daytripper_4
Summary: ~A second blow comes. Then a third and a fourth. Slowly George sinks to the floor in broken defeat.His mouth tastes of salty tears and metallic blood. His limbs curl up over his head.“Stop, please stop,” The broken and begging tone reverberates around the room.~or an au where George's dad is an asshole and Dreams a snobby rich kid (but so is george)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	1. When We Met

**Author's Note:**

> -this will be taken down if Dream/George say that they aren't comfortable with fics  
> -this is just for fun  
> -hope everyone has a nice day :]]

Champagne flutes inhabited every hand in attendance, including George’s. He took a sip of the golden liquid whilst peering at those around him. Women in gorgeous, ornate gowns covered the dance floor, their dresses blurred together in a mesh of wealthy colors. Men of various stature conversed with one another, no doubt making various business arrangements that would either make or break their reputations. 

It was just as boring as the previous ones. When he was younger George would gape in awe at the shimmering decorations and lavish atmosphere. However, he was old enough now to know that it was a facade. The smiles were fake, the simpering compliments were meaningless. He detests them in almost every way. Despite starting university in the fall, his parents continue to drag him to these mundane events. He attends without fuss but only for the sake of his mother. 

Today’s party was a carbon copy of the last, except this time the floral arrangements contained lilacs instead of tulips. George only noticed because he had scoffed at them on his way in. They spilled over table edges and intertwined with the lights. The flowery smell assaulted his nose. 

Presently, he was itching to leave. He had his notebook in the left hand pocket of his suit jacket and a pack of cigarettes in the other. There was nowhere else he would rather be than curled up on his balcony back home writing madly in a haze of smoke. But alas here he was. 

The passionate crescendo in the delicate string orchestra jolted him out of his wistful scenario. He took one last glance at the crowd and spotted his father, a middle aged man with salt and pepper grey hair, who stood next to a willowy lady in a powder blue silk dress. They were talking animatedly and her smile grew as he reached down to wrap his arm around her waist. George’s mother was on the other side of the ballroom. 

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was in fact a quite common occurrence. But George’s stomach still burned with hatred for his father and his heart ached for his mother. With one final sip he finished off his champagne and weaved his way through the gracefully intoxicated bodies. Arms reached out and trailed along his chest. Various voices called out his name with a drunken lilt to their words. He ignored the lot of it and pushed forward until he reached two open doors. 

They led out to the sprawling grounds of the estate. The moon hung low in the sky. It looked as if it was kissing the crests of the hills. With a huff George scouted out the landscape in front of him. He spun around to assess the house as well. A delightful nook on the roof caught his eye and he busied himself with figuring out how to get up to it. It took several attempts that would’ve been mortifying had anybody been there to witness them. At long last he propped himself up against the stone wall and extracted his notebook from his pocket. The joyful quietness enveloped him and he tilted his head back in contentment. 

The air was just cool enough to cast a pleasant shiver throughout his body and the lilacs actually smelled wonderful once you were far enough away from them. He brought a cigarette to his lips and lit it, casting a furtive look over the eaves to check that no one would witness him. 

He sat there, undisturbed, for at least half an hour. Words flowed from his pen to the paper and soon three small pages were covered in messy scrawl. Most of it was unreadable to all except him. 

A harsh chime from his phone broke the blissful concentration that had stole over him. A text from Sapnap sat waiting for him to read. Despite the brief annoyance he felt, for he had been enjoying his solitude, he smiled fondly. 

“You at another one of those parties?” 

A second text came soon after. 

“Do you want us to come pick you up?” 

George laughed softly and texted back a quick “It’s too far for you guys to drive, we're at least an hour from my house and that’s already pretty far from you. Plus my dad would freak out, he’s in a bad mood today.” He appreciated his friends, of course he did, but they never fully understood what it meant to be the son of Richard Davidson. They both grew up in large families with countless numbers of siblings. George would go over for dinner sometimes, the small kind gestures and full faced smiles always left him feeling rather empty. 

With a tired sigh he picked up his pen and continued on in his notebook. His lips formed a soft circle and he watched as tendrils of smoke disappeared into the inky blue sky. Suddenly, a loud collection of effervescent yells made him jolt. The remnants of the smoke suffocated his lungs and he coughed lightly. Through watering eyes he saw a large cluster of kids around his age. They stumbled over one another, laughing as champagne sloshed out of their glasses. 

One of them, a dirty blonde in a sleek black blazer, thrust his arm into the air and shouted something indiscernible. Whatever it was caused the rest of the group to shout in agreement and a few of the girls threw their arms and diamond laden hands around him. 

George watched in disgust. He pulled a flask from the inside of his jacket and took a long sip. The people below him collapsed in a pile of tangled expensive fabrics. The blonde that had shouted earlier, now had his hands enmeshed in a redhead's hair. Her lavender dress was askew and one of the straps was falling down off her shoulder. Wolf whistles pierced the night air and the boy broke apart from her with a smug grin. 

With increasing exhaustion George hastily grabbed a second cigarette and ran a hand through his previously neat hair. His eyes leave the mess of people and reread some of his sloppily written words. The phrase “Glass Lilacs” sits at the top of the page. His nose wrinkles at the poetry’s lack of eloquence. 

Fueled by anger from assorted sources, he rips the poem out, crumples it up and chucks it over the edge of the roof. A small “mmph” from below causes his eyes to widen in panic. A singular hand shoots up and grabs the rough shingles, then a blonde head followed by a lean muscular body. 

“Why are you on my roof?” The abrupt question catches George off guard. 

“It’s nicer up here,” George replied shortly. 

The stranger looks blankly at him for a moment before extending a hand.

“I’m Dream.” 

The introduction left George speechless for a moment, who the fuck is named Dream? However his manners did not leave him entirely for he shakes the strangers hand and murmurs, “George.” 

“Is this yours then George?” Dream tosses the paper up in the air before catching it single handedly.

“No, I’ve got no idea what that is.” he responds sourly.

Dream carefully unfolds the paper and George’s cheeks begin to redden.

“Glass Lilacs.” Dream begins to read. His voice is low and the whole scene feels embarrassingly intimate. “Well I’m glad to know our floral arrangements made an impact on you,” his tone is teasing.

“If you read the rest of it you’d find that it wasn’t a positive impact,” George muttered sullenly. He had finally pinpointed Dream as the one who led the group of the vapid kids, who had all passed out on the lush lawn. 

“You didn’t like them? Personally, I thought the whole party looked rather nice.” Dream offered his best, charming grin. 

George wasn’t charmed. In fact the longer he observed him the more he grew annoyed. His words had no substance, like everyone else in attendance. 

“I found it to be excessive.” George could tell his words had finally hit their mark. The charming grin fell. And George saw genuine hurt flash across his blue-green eyes. A disturbing wave of satisfaction crashed over him.  
“Well George, it was lovely to make your acquaintance but I think it’s time you left the party since it isn’t up to your standards.” His words were clipped and short. 

“I’d love nothing more.” And with that, George swung himself off the short roof and strided out of the garden with surprising grace. 

~~~~

Despite it being late august, it was surprisingly cold. Small shivers shook George’s thin frame as he waited patiently for his driver to arrive. He had left the party eagerly, much to his mother’s dismay, and was now standing against a moss covered cobble wall. He checked his watch for the fifth time in the past two minutes and fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. 

The sound of tires on gravel reached his ears as an elegant black car pulled into view. George whispered a quick “Thank god,” and stuffed himself into the back seat. 

“Hi Raymond,” he greets his driver warmly. 

Raymond nods in return and asks, “Home, Mr. Davidson?” 

“Um actually could you take me to Karl’s please?” 

~~~~

The drive over was long and gave George time, too much time perhaps, to reflect on the evening so far. Images of his father and the woman in blue swirled around his mind. He could almost see Dream’s hurt eyes in the muddled reflection of the car window. It was all too overwhelming. Towards the end of the ride, his phone rang, it was his father. Several angry texts followed after George declined the call. 

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I always knew you were a selfish boy, leaving me here alone. It’s as if you don’t care about the future of my business.”

“You had no right to leave without my permission.”

George felt the familiar burning behind his eyes. His slender fingers unscrewed his flask and he downed it in two alarming gulps. He pressed his lips together and with shaking hands, texted Sapnap that he was five minutes away.


	2. Blood and Tears

The street lights stand like elusive giants in the foggy night. George, Sapnap and Karl careen through alleyways with bright laughter and drunk footsteps. A house comes into view, colored lights pulse through the windows and swarms of teens enter through the open door. 

“We’re here,” Karl says breathlessly. 

“Guys it’s going to be awkward no one’s gonna know me.” George’s voice dips into a slight whine.

“Dude, you’ve hung out with us for almost five years, literally everyone knows you.” And with that they tumbled into the mess of bodies. The stench of alcohol was prominent and cigarette smoke enveloped the crowd. Colors faded into each other and tinted the hazy air, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. A wide smile spread on George’s face as he took in the setting that felt all too familiar. 

“C’mon, I wanna dance.”Sapnap grabbed George’s arm and wiggled his eyebrows. With considerable abandon, George followed willingly. 

Limbs sway gently in the air and some wrap around their lovers waists. The floor shakes slightly with every beat of music. 

Small beads of sweat collect amongst Georges brow as the party continues. The white t-shirt which he borrowed from Sapnap begins to cling to his body and the sweatpants hang precariously on his hips. 

His eyes meet the brown ones of a tall redhead and they inch closer to each other. His logic is caught up in the immense pleasure of letting himself go. He tilts his head up ever so slightly and the redhead seizes the opportunity. His eyes search George’s and he nods gently. With parted lips George lets his neck become littered with bruises. 

~~~~

“Fuck.” George’s hand grazes his pale neck as he examines it in his golden bathroom mirror. 

He checks his watch anxiously. The time reads 4:57 am. A sigh of relief escapes him and breaks the sleepy silence of the room.

He has time. 

This isn't his first time covering up a bruise and it won't be his last. Although, some are more pleasant to cover up. 

With practiced skill, he sets about hiding it. 

His phone rests on the marble counter, quietly playing a gentle song. Overall the atmosphere is actually quite nice, tranquil in fact. It feels as if he is the only man in the world. The early morning might actually be his favorite time for that exact reason. 

Nothing feels real and everything feels all too real at the same time. 

Sudden thumps disrupt his own personal bubble. The mahogany floor beneath him trembles as the door to the bathroom bursts open. 

Standing there, clad in his robe, stands George's father. His fists are curled- his eyes, bloodshot and furious. 

George halts in his place. His first thought is the half covered hickey on his neck. His second is that he, for lack of a better word, was completely and utterly fucked.

The two of them stand like that for much too long. His father, menacing and frozen in apparent anger, and George, terrified to the point where he might have stopped breathing. 

“You- I-” The older man stumbles over his words as all consuming rage leaps up from his stomach and lodges itself in his throat. 

“I'm sorry I don't really understand-” George begins nervously. His quivering statement is cut off by a deafening blow. 

His fathers fist collides with the sharp edge of his jaw. A searing wave of pain riddles George's face. He feels the warmth of thick, crimson blood flow down from his nose into the divot between his lips. He staggers back and clutches on to the counter behind him for support. 

A second blow comes. Then a third and a fourth. Slowly George sinks to the floor in broken defeat. 

His mouth tastes of salty tears and metallic blood. His limbs curl up over his head. 

“Stop, please stop,” The broken and begging tone reverberates around the room.

To his surprise his father stops. He stands there, looking down at his bloodied son. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins. “I’m sorry you’re my son.” His voice is laced with contempt.  
“What did I do? What did I do?” George murmurs quietly. 

“There’s a video. There’s a video of you and some-” He pauses, the words seem heavy on his tongue. “-Some boy.” 

George instantly recoils. His perfectly twisted world crashes around him. 

He knew his dad wasn’t supportive but he had always had some silly ounce of hope that it would be different. He would be different. 

With one last disparaging glare, his father turns on his heel and says, “We will discuss this in the morning.” 

George melts into the cool floor. Blood pools under his chin and the forgotten music mixes eerily with his stifled sobs. 

Hours pass, the sun rises, the blood dries and still he lays there. Emptiness eats away at him. Despondence slowly suffocates his uneven breathing. 

~~~

His mom finds him.

Her rapid knocks wake up the bloodied boy and he gently pushes himself off the floor. When he stands, dark shadows block out the world and he grabs onto the wall for support. With a brief and disgusted glance at himself in the mirror, he trudges towards the door. 

His mother’s eyes fall on his bruised skin. She was never heartless, but she was always at his father’s will. So it was no surprise when a mask of indifference covered her worried eyes. 

“Start packing.” Her voice is faded and rings in George’s ears. 

“What-?” 

She pushes past him and unearths a dusty trunk from under his bed. He watches as she grabs heaps of clothes and shoves them in haphazardly.

“You’re getting driven to university today.” 

She hurries out of the room, leaving him standing there in a mess of wrinkled clothes. 

His fingers deffley fold sweaters and tuck them neatly into the trunk. The room around him flickers in and out of reality as the empty buzz overtakes his brain. He feels as if he’s on autopilot.  
Fresh tears dampen the dried blood on his cheeks and before he can stop them he all too familiar taste of blood and tears overwhelms his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really tired but i wanted to publish this so hopefully i'll remember to come back an edit it 
> 
> also wtfsdgf ty sm for 100 reads already thats insane <333


	3. chapter 3

The room smells like old books and small sparkling dust particles glint in the dull sunlight streaming through the large window. 

George collapses onto the small twin sized bed and stares numbly at his new surroundings. He had arrived at his university along with a seemingly endless crowd of others. 

A fraying blanket sits on the iron bed frame. The clock ticks by, breaking the lonely silence. 

He sighs loudly and flops backwards to stare at the ceiling. It was then that the door creaked open and George shot right back up. 

He was met with a pair of surprised green eyes. George subconsciously reaches up to touch his face. He couldn’t cover all the bruises up despite how hard he tried. 

“Hey I’m uh Dream, I’m your roommate I guess,” He extends a large hand.

The blonde looks oddly familiar but George can’t figure out why. He sits there for a moment with a puzzled expression trying to connect the dots before he remembers Dream’s hand. 

“I’m George,” His pale hand gets enveloped by the other. 

“Well hi,” and with a shrug Dream turns around, dumps his bag and exits before George can get another word in. 

“Well isn’t he charming,” George quips sarcastically to the empty room. Even the silence agrees with him. He reaches for his pack of cigarettes, which he had already put inside the bedside table drawer. 

A small balcony next to the bathroom door catches his eye and he makes a swift beeline for it. The late afternoon light casts shadows in all the perfect places, dusting the ornate buildings in front of him with a golden tint. The tree’s late summer blooms rustle in the gentle breeze and gentle conversation flowed below him from students moving in. 

Honestly it was pretty great. 

George stayed in his room for the remainder of the day, getting unpacked and lounging about. 

He only leaves his room once the sky turns black and his stomach becomes insistent. He opens up his phone and does a once over of his face before smiling in satisfaction. The bruises were almost invisible in the dark. 

With a bit more confidence, George sets off with food on the front of his mind. He’s looked at the campus before which is the only reason he doesn’t get completely lost on his way to the small but lively town on the outskirts of the campus. 

Bright neon signs shown through store windows and swarms of students jostled each other as they all headed for different places. 

George stands there in the crowd for a moment before spotting a sign for a small cafe. He squeezes through countless bodies before staggering into the warmly lit building. 

A small, pink haired girl stands besides the register and smiles at him graciously as he scans the menu. 

“Hi! What can I get for you today?” Her voice was soft but energetic despite the time.

“Could I have an earl grey tea with cream and one sugar?” It was his go to tea order and in his opinion, was the best one possible. 

“Absolutely.” She taps a few buttons before looking back up. “Anything else?”

“Oh um one croissant as well please?” The girl, who’s name tag says Niki, nods.

There’s an awkward silence while he waits but it’s broken quickly by a soft jingle as the door opens. 

Dream stands there with his arm casually wrapped around a blonde girl's shoulder. George immediately shrinks back into the wall and pulls out his phone. 

While he was planning on simply scrolling through instagram in efforts to hide his face, the influx of messages from both Sapnap and Karl drew his attention. 

He hadn't checked his phone since he arrived, mainly because of his dad. 

He reads through the texts which get increasingly more worried each time. He smiles fondly at how much they care for him and sends a quick text to their group chat. 

Luckily, Niki calls out his order right after he shuts off his phone. He gladly pays and gets the fuck out of there before he has to acknowledge Dream or vice versa. 

The walk back is pleasant if not a bit lonely. 

~~~

He gets back to his dorm and quickly curls up on his bed with the tea in hand. The croissant lies forgotten in the bag. 

He pulls out his phone and answers a few more texts and such before hovering his finger cautiously over Sapnap’s contact. 

With a careless sigh he taps “call” and waits. 

“Gogy?” Sapnap’s voice is muffled slightly by the rustling of fabric. 

“Hey Sap, how’s everything?” 

“Fucking boring dude I’m cramming for a chem test right now.” 

“Oh shit good luck.”

“Yeah for real.” George can hear the stress in his tone and quickly decided to wrap up the conversation.

“Listen I’ll call you back later when-” He’s interrupted by Dream, who flies through the door and throws himself onto his bed with a pile of books. George glances at him before continuing on. “-when you’re not as busy yeah?” 

“Yeah alright but wait are you okay dude? I heard some shit went down with your dad?”

“What? No nothing happened, don’t worry.” George laughs nervously before saying a rushed goodbye and hanging up. 

He drops his face into his hands and sits like that for a moment before composing himself and looking up through bleary eyes. 

Dream’s staring at him curiously. 

“What are you looking at?” George snaps without warning. The blonde raises his hands in mock surrender and goes back to leafing through one of his many books.

They both sit in an awkward but understood silence for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry this ones pretty short i had finals last week and things have been rocky w my family but hopefully i'll have more time soon <33

**Author's Note:**

> o_o
> 
> hope it wasn't too shitty i wrote it at 3 am so... forgive any mistakes?
> 
> mwuah :*


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